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any way by a scandal. His death had been a tragedy for the world of music, and she refused to let that fact be submerged under a storm of gossip and innuendo.
“I will not be questioned by you like a criminal,” Eleanor told him coldly. “However, I have no intention of allowing you to drag Edmund’s name or mine through the mud of scandal. So I will show you exactly how wrong you are.”
“Very well.”
They continued their ride to Eleanor’s house in stony silence.
When they pulled up in front of the elegant white townhome some minutes later, Eleanor saw to her surprise that it was blazing with lights. A little prickle of unease ran through her, and she hurried down from the carriage, ignoring Lord Neale’s proffered hand. He followed her as she swept up the steps and through the front door.
Instead of the tranquility of a houseful of inhabitants retired for the night, as one would have expected at this late hour, the front hall was a hubbub of people and noise. Two children in their nightgowns sat on the stairs, interestedly watching the scene below them, where several servants in varying states of dress milled around, everyone seemingly talking at once. At the center of the activity was a dark, attractive young woman wrapped in a blue sari, her liquid dark eyes large and frightened, as she talked in a low voice to the two men before her. One of the men, a rough-looking sort whom Anthony remembered as Eleanor’s butler, handed the woman a small glass of an amber liquid. The other man, a tall African dressed in a suit, was on one knee before the woman, looking anxiously into her face.
Eleanor’s voice cut through the hum of talk. “What is going on here?”
Everyone turned and began to talk at once, their voices rising in a babble, until finally Lord Neale’s voice rang out, overpowering all the others. “Silence!”
In the ringing quiet that followed, Eleanor said, “Bartwell?”
The rough-looking man replied, “A thief got into the house, Miss Elly.”
The African man, who had risen and turned, but stayed protectively by the Indian woman’s side, added, “And he assaulted Kerani.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“W HAT !” Eleanor gasped, and swept forward toward the young woman. The servants parted quickly before her. She scarcely noticed that Lord Neale stayed at her side. “Kerani, are you all right?”
“No, no, it was not as it sounds,” the woman replied softly, standing up and inclining her head in a little bow to Eleanor. “He only pushed me aside as he ran away. I stumbled and fell.”
The man beside her snorted and said, “You would excuse the devil himself, ma’am. Pushing you down is an attack.”
“Yes, of course it is, Zachary, but you are scarcely helping the poor girl standing over her glowering like that,” Eleanor told him. “Now, Kerani…” She reached down and took the smaller woman’s hand in hers and looked into her face. “Tell me what happened.”
“I—” Kerani drew a shaky breath and straightened her shoulders, seeming to draw strength from Eleanor’s grasp. “I had just put the children to bed,” she went on in her soft, lilting accent. “I was going down to the library. I wanted to read a bit before I went to bed and—I walked by your room, my lady. I saw a man inside. I—he was standing in front of the dresser. He was turned away from me. But I gasped, I think, and he turned and saw me.”
The woman began to tremble, and Eleanor slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right, Kerani. He’s gone now. You are safe.”
“I know. I am sorry. It is just…he looked so—so frightening. His face—it was not human.”
“What?”
“He looked, um, it was all white, with holes, and his eyes behind them.”
“A mask?” Anthony suggested, and Kerani glanced at him, surprised.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “I think it was. But not just over his eyes, as I have seen before.”
“A full mask, then, and all white?” Anthony said, his
“I will not be questioned by you like a criminal,” Eleanor told him coldly. “However, I have no intention of allowing you to drag Edmund’s name or mine through the mud of scandal. So I will show you exactly how wrong you are.”
“Very well.”
They continued their ride to Eleanor’s house in stony silence.
When they pulled up in front of the elegant white townhome some minutes later, Eleanor saw to her surprise that it was blazing with lights. A little prickle of unease ran through her, and she hurried down from the carriage, ignoring Lord Neale’s proffered hand. He followed her as she swept up the steps and through the front door.
Instead of the tranquility of a houseful of inhabitants retired for the night, as one would have expected at this late hour, the front hall was a hubbub of people and noise. Two children in their nightgowns sat on the stairs, interestedly watching the scene below them, where several servants in varying states of dress milled around, everyone seemingly talking at once. At the center of the activity was a dark, attractive young woman wrapped in a blue sari, her liquid dark eyes large and frightened, as she talked in a low voice to the two men before her. One of the men, a rough-looking sort whom Anthony remembered as Eleanor’s butler, handed the woman a small glass of an amber liquid. The other man, a tall African dressed in a suit, was on one knee before the woman, looking anxiously into her face.
Eleanor’s voice cut through the hum of talk. “What is going on here?”
Everyone turned and began to talk at once, their voices rising in a babble, until finally Lord Neale’s voice rang out, overpowering all the others. “Silence!”
In the ringing quiet that followed, Eleanor said, “Bartwell?”
The rough-looking man replied, “A thief got into the house, Miss Elly.”
The African man, who had risen and turned, but stayed protectively by the Indian woman’s side, added, “And he assaulted Kerani.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“W HAT !” Eleanor gasped, and swept forward toward the young woman. The servants parted quickly before her. She scarcely noticed that Lord Neale stayed at her side. “Kerani, are you all right?”
“No, no, it was not as it sounds,” the woman replied softly, standing up and inclining her head in a little bow to Eleanor. “He only pushed me aside as he ran away. I stumbled and fell.”
The man beside her snorted and said, “You would excuse the devil himself, ma’am. Pushing you down is an attack.”
“Yes, of course it is, Zachary, but you are scarcely helping the poor girl standing over her glowering like that,” Eleanor told him. “Now, Kerani…” She reached down and took the smaller woman’s hand in hers and looked into her face. “Tell me what happened.”
“I—” Kerani drew a shaky breath and straightened her shoulders, seeming to draw strength from Eleanor’s grasp. “I had just put the children to bed,” she went on in her soft, lilting accent. “I was going down to the library. I wanted to read a bit before I went to bed and—I walked by your room, my lady. I saw a man inside. I—he was standing in front of the dresser. He was turned away from me. But I gasped, I think, and he turned and saw me.”
The woman began to tremble, and Eleanor slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right, Kerani. He’s gone now. You are safe.”
“I know. I am sorry. It is just…he looked so—so frightening. His face—it was not human.”
“What?”
“He looked, um, it was all white, with holes, and his eyes behind them.”
“A mask?” Anthony suggested, and Kerani glanced at him, surprised.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. “I think it was. But not just over his eyes, as I have seen before.”
“A full mask, then, and all white?” Anthony said, his
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